


Minus One Day

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day, barisi and the washing machine?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Some Barisi fluff for both the washing machine collection, and Valentine's Day ;)





	Minus One Day

“Sonny?” Barba asked, keeping his voice carefully controlled.

Carisi appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. “Yeah?”

“Where are the clothes that I left here?” Barba gestured toward the trunk at the foot of the bed.

“In the washer,” Carisi answered, giving him a funny look. “They were dirty, right?”

“Yeah—Yes,” Barba said. “I just, uh—it’s my turn to do laundry, right?”

“Thought it’d be nice since you had to work and I didn’t. Besides, you might’ve forgotten, but it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“I didn’t forget,” Barba answered with a frown. “I said happy—”

“Yeah, I know. That was like ten hours ago, though. Anyway, you wouldn’t let me take you out for dinner or plan anything romantic, so I’m making do with the heart-shaped filet mignon that you pretended not to see in the refrigerator and a dessert I’m _not_ going to mention and flowers that I’m pretending I only bought to decorate the table.” He shrugged a shoulder and offered a smile. “And I did some cleaning.”

“I’m—Thanks,” Barba said. “Sorry, I’m just, you know.” He waved a hand in the air. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Dinner’s almost ready,” Carisi told him, hooking a thumb toward the kitchen.

“Okay, great,” Barba said, managing a smile. “I’ll change and be out in a minute.”

Carisi regarded him for another couple of seconds before nodding and turning away. He left Barba alone in the bedroom, and Barba closed his eyes, drawing a breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

_Shit, shit, shit_ , he thought, scrubbing his hands over his face. _Okay, calm down, this is fixable._ He was far from calm, though. His stomach was a mess of churning acid and his heart was thudding in his chest. Even his palms were sweaty, and he cursed himself as he crept to the bedroom door. Carisi was in the kitchen, his back to Barba, chopping vegetables beside the stove.

Barba made his way out of the bedroom and slipped quietly into the small laundry room. He opened the lid of the washing machine and the agitator stuttered to a stop. The machine was full of soapy water. He swore under his breath and quickly rolled up his sleeves before plunging his arms into the cold water. He grabbed hold of a pair of jeans and pulled them partway out, but they were Carisi’s. He dropped them back into the water and rooted around, pulling out a second heavy tangle of wet denim.

_Jackpot_. He turned the jeans over and fished his fingers into the change pocket. _Nothing._ He wiggled his fingers around a bit more, just to be sure, but the sinking sensation in his stomach told him it was pointless. He lifted the jeans higher, pushing his hand into the deeper front pocket.

“I thought you were changing.”

Barba jumped, whirling with the wet pants in his hands. “ _Jesuhh_ —I am,” he said. Water sluiced off the jeans onto the floor and down the front of his clothes. “ _Fuck_.” He turned back to the washer, holding the jeans over the soapy water, and closed his eyes, trying to get control of himself. _Shit, you idiot_ , he thought.

“There are _drier_ clothes in the dresser,” Carisi said. “Would you like me to get you some?”

“No.” Barba released a slow breath, letting the jeans slide back into the water, and turned to face Carisi. The detective was leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, looking far too calm for the storm of anxiety that was raging inside of Barba.

“Looking for something?”

“I was, um…” Barba was so preoccupied with trying to come up with an answer that wasn’t technically a _lie_ , so busy trying to salvage some bit of his plan, that it took him far longer than it should have to notice how suspicious the impassivity in Carisi’s expression was.

“Raf. You think I don’t check your pockets before I do laundry?”

“I…” Barba frowned. His stomach squirmed. “You didn’t say—”

“You didn’t ask,” Carisi cut in.

Barba considered that. “I panicked,” he admitted, and he saw a smile play at the corners of Carisi’s lips. Barba exhaled. “Do you have them?” he asked. He didn’t want to admit that he’d screwed this up beyond repair, but there didn’t seem to be any way to save face, now.

Carisi pulled a hand from his pocket and held it out. Two matching gold bands glinted in his palm. “You could’ve used a box,” he said.

“I was being sneaky,” Barba said, rolling his eyes at his own foolishness. “Thought the box might be noticeable.”

“I’m sorry.”

Barba blinked. “What? _Why_?”

“You’re upset.”

“I planned—well, it doesn’t matter, because I fucked it up. _I’m_ sorry. I’ve been an asshole today because I was so wrapped up in my own nervousness—”

“Nervous? You?”

“It did occur to me a few hundred times that you might say no, Sonny. And with good reason,” he added with a self-deprecating laugh as he spread his arms and looked down at the soaked front of himself. “But, uh…” He glanced around. The room was small, the floor was hard and wet. It was less than ideal, but he could still make an effort. He tugged at the wet fabric above his right knee.

Before Barba could kneel, however, Carisi straightened away from the doorjamb, took a step toward him, and sank onto a knee. He held the rings up and met Barba’s eyes.

“What…the hell?” was all Barba could manage for a moment.

“Rafael Barba—can I marry you?” Carisi asked, his cheek dipping into that damned dimple that he knew Barba had never been able to resist.

“Are you proposing to me with the rings that _I bought_?” Barba asked, as his brain struggled to catch up to what was happening. His stomach was fluttering, but it wasn’t anxiety, now. Warmth had settled into his belly and was spreading outward, and he could feel the beginning of a _very_ stupid smile forming on his face.

“You can still do your speech, if you have one.”

“Basically it was just…you know I’m not great at the big romantic gestures but it’s Valentine’s Day, and for the first time in my life, that really and truly means something to me. So I want to ask you to let me love you, today, on every Valentine’s for the rest of our lives, and all the days in between.” He cleared his throat. His eyes burned in response to the shine of emotion in Carisi’s. “And…if you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”

“Is that…from Winnie the Pooh…?”

“And I love you,” Barba added, his voice rough. “Get up, you idiot.”

Carisi rose to his feet. “Rafi, I got a question,” he said, and his voice was low and rough, too. _Don’t we make a sappy pair,_ Barba thought. “These things say _mine_ and _yours_ inside. I know you say you’re not good at romance—which I also know isn’t true—but were you afraid you’d mix ‘em up, or what?”

“No, I—” Barba hesitated. He swallowed again. “They go the other way around,” he finally said, trying not to mumble as heat bloomed high on his cheeks. “I give you one that means you’re mine and I wear one that means I’m yours. And…they have the little infinity symbol…afterward…” He trailed off, fidgeting. “I guess—I thought—I’m not really used—”

Carisi moved forward, pushing Barba against the washing machine so hard that the lid slammed closed behind him. Barba made a surprised sound, and then Carisi’s mouth was on his, the detective’s body had him pressed against the washer, and nothing else mattered. Barba reached up and grabbed the back of Carisi’s neck, closing his eyes. His other hand landed on Carisi’s hip, and the last of Barba’s nervousness slipped away.

He felt himself relax against the cold washing machine; the agitator had resumed once the lid was down, but he barely noticed the vibration. He let Carisi claim his mouth. Every bit of him belonged to the detective, and the fact that Carisi was willing to take him, scars and flaws and moods and all, the fact that Carisi _wanted_ him—

Barba’s eyes and nose were burning when Carisi finally broke away to look at him. Barba knew the detective would see the redness around his eyes, the emotion in his lines, but he didn’t care. Carisi had tears in his own eyes, and Barba thought, _God, I love you._

“If you want something else engraved, we can do it,” he said hoarsely. “You can choose whatever you want mine to say. I just thought—”

“Shut up,” Carisi said with a sudden grin. He held out his hand. “Put it on me.”

Barba plucked the rings from Carisi’s palm carefully, afraid he would drop them from his trembling fingers. He held them up, checking the inscriptions, and put the one that said _yours_ back into the detective’s right palm. Carisi extended his left hand, knuckles up.

Barba was having difficulty catching his breath, and his hands were still shaking, but he managed to slide the ring onto Carisi’s finger. “I don’t think we’re supposed to do it like this. They’re wedding rings, not engagement rings.”

“Who cares.”

“It fits,” Barba murmured.

“Wondered how you knew my size since you never asked,” Carisi said.

“Every part of your body is longer and thinner than mine,” Barba answered, meeting his eyes. He smiled. “So I took a shot.”

Carisi grinned. “Who ever told you you had a fat one, Lachance?” he asked.

Barba snorted softly and cocked an eyebrow. “You did,” he said. “And what have I told you about quoting eighties movies?”

“You find it irresistibly adorable?” Carisi suggested. He paused. “It’s based on a book. And you quoted Winnie the Pooh in your proposal speech.”

“Joan Powers, not Winnie the Pooh,” Barba muttered. He held out his left hand, noting with satisfaction that Carisi’s fingers were unsteady, too, as he maneuvered the band onto Barba’s finger. “It occurs to me now that neither one of us actually agreed to marry the other,” he said, sliding his green gaze up to meet Carisi’s bright blue eyes.

“Too late. Rings are on. No backsies,” Carisi said, and Barba laughed. “But yeah, I wanna marry you, thanks for almost asking.”

Barba laughed again, hooking his fingers into Carisi’s belt loops to tug him closer. “I want to marry you, too,” he said softly, searching the younger man’s face. “Thank you for…the heart-shaped steaks and the beautiful flowers and for saving the rings from the wash—and did you say there was a secret dessert, or something?”

Carisi chuckled. “Knew you’d come back to that sooner or later,” he said. “I made chocolate-covered strawberries. A lot of them.”

Barba stared at him. “I fucking love you, marry me,” he intoned, and when Carisi threw his head back to laugh, Barba leaned forward and kissed his neck, nuzzling under his jaw. Carisi caught his breath, and his arms wrapped around the other man. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick ‘call me Sonny’ Carisi, Jr., my future husband,” he murmured against the detective’s throat. He sighed and felt a small shiver pass through Carisi’s body. “Now we both need to change because I got us all wet.”

“Forget clothes. Let’s have dinner in those matching bathrobes I got us.”

Barba drew back to look at him. “What matching robes?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Oh. Right, they’re totally _not_ a cheesy Valentine’s present, I know you hate those,” Carisi said with a grin. “I prolly didn’t load up the DVR with sappy romance, either.”

“Engagement’s off.”

Carisi laughed. “Strawberries.”

“Engagement’s back on. Alright, let’s do this romance stuff,” Barba said, and he let Carisi kiss the smirk from his lips.

 


End file.
